by Becca Bloom
He pulled his sunglasses off to better see our guilt. "To talk?"
Adi and I looked at each other and smiled back at him, saying, "Yep," in unison.
He knew. I could see it in his skeptical stare.
"She has a lot going on with her upcoming wedding and the horrible tragedy to befall Victor," added Adi. “Have you confirmed whether or not it was a murder?”
Agent Vasquez didn't react. There was no sigh, no shift of his weight, no narrowing of his eyes. Nothing. He just stared at us like he could see straight through our act.
Finally, he spoke. "Stay out of my investigation." He didn't need to add any threat to his direct order. I understood how serious he was by the stony expression on his face and the force of his booming voice. I also stood by his affirmation and involvement that Victor’s death had been no accident. He had been murdered.
Adi pulled me away, leaving Agent Vasquez to watch us depart.
We'd made it two blocks when I put on the brakes. "Why did you take off like that? Now he'll know we're going to do exactly what he told us not to do. You might as well have confessed everything to him."
"That's what I saved you from doing. Seriously, Jess, I merely thought to keep you from having to lie. You're not very good at it."
I was miffed for all of two seconds. I wasn't about to get upset at her for telling me something I already knew about myself.
The giant lion sentries guarding the front of the grocery store came in to view. The whole architecture of the warehouse-style store lent itself more to the entrance of a museum … or the New York public library. It was kind of contradictory to think of buying pretty sprinkles, assorted colored mini marshmallows, and flowered napkins inside.
My mind shifted from one problem to another, doughnuts vying for attention with Vanessa's plea, Adi's promise, and Agent Vasquez’s threat. The doughnuts won by a landslide. No matter what Adi thought she’d heard, I’d not promised anything an average concerned citizen wouldn’t have done.
"One thing at a time. Right now, we need to concentrate on doughnuts. I'm thinking: regular glazed, cream-frosted shredded coconut, double chocolate drizzles, and strawberry with sprinkles. Four flavors should be enough, don't you think?"
"So long as you make enough of each of them, you should be fine."
"How many do you think I'll need? Five hundred?" I thought that was a generous amount. I'd done two hundred and fifty for a fundraiser for my nephew's Montessori school. It had been hard work, but they'd been a huge success.
Adi gaped at me. Oh good, she thought that was too much also. My shoulders relaxed.
"Five hundred? That wouldn't feed half the town let alone the tourists and visitors from the surrounding towns." She lifted up her fingers, counting on them. "Then, you have to figure on repeat customers. There'll be people wanting to sample each flavor."
My anxiety increased the longer she counted.
"You should be okay with two thousand. If you run out, you can always make a few batches of your goofballs."
I felt my jaw drop, but I couldn't lift it. I stood rooted beside one of the concrete lions trying not to have a panic attack.
Swallowing hard, I repeated her. Maybe I'd heard wrong. "Two thousand?" Ten times the most I'd ever made.
She shrugged her shoulders like she hadn't just pulled the rug out from under my feet. Even if Sylvia allowed me to overtake her kitchen, there was no way I could make and fry that much dough.
"Yeah. The mayor and his committee have been advertising this event for weeks. There'll be a ton of people in town and your doughnuts are better than anything available in the country. News will spread, and I suspect your table will be one of the more popular ones."
This was way more than I'd bargained for. But I'd signed my name. I'd promised. And wouldn't Abuelita just love it if I backed down now? I couldn't give her the satisfaction. I was stubborn that way.
Filling my lungs with resolve, I exhaled all my doubts and entered the grocery store to buy out their entire stock of flour, shredded coconut, and powdered sugar.
Chapter 11
With Adi's help, I arranged for the sacks of flour and all the other accompaniments for my doughnuts to be delivered within the hour to the restaurant, saving my receipts to reimburse myself if my doughnuts made enough to pay myself back. It helped to be busy. My fears didn't have a chance to weaken my resolve. Instead, I requested what I needed as if mixing and frying two thousand doughnuts a day was old hat for me. I wore my confidence like a borrowed jacket, but it sure felt nice on.
I was still feeling good when we returned to the kitchen to prepare for our delivery. There were some very important calls I needed to make. I was confident, but that did not make me Superwoman. I needed some major back-up. Adi could help in the morning and I had the use of half of the kitchen, but that wasn't enough.
Abuelita rolled empanada dough on the island counter and the waitresses fluttered between the dining room and kitchen with plates. Sylvia was standing by the stove with a cook she hoped would lighten her and Adi’s load in record time.
She pointed to a plate full of fresh empanadas when she saw us. They were huge. Like giant half-moons. "Here, try one of these. I’m playing around with the recipe so they’re just as delicious baked as they are fried."
Abuelita picked up her rolling pin, smacking it against her palm. "Is no good. Empanada is fry. No bake."
Sylvia winked at us as Adi and I took our first bites. "So, what do you think?"
The crust made a crunchy sound as I bit into it, yielding to a soft, flaky center stuffed with ground beef, vegetables, and a mixture of flavors I’d never tasted before. Swallowing, I said, "This is delicious! What's in the filling?"
"The secret ingredient is fresh ground peanuts. I had hoped for something simpler, but Ma decided to make empanadas for the fundraiser.”
Adi glared at Abuelita. Nudging my arm, Adi said, “She only chose empanadas to take the fryer away from you.”
Sylvia checked the timer and peeked inside the oven. “I won’t allow it, so I’ve offered to help her by baking them. Not only can I bake more in one batch and save us a load of work, but people will appreciate the cut in calories without losing any of the flavor. She’s just too stubborn to admit she’s selfish and wrong.”
Words would have no effect on Abuelita, but I knew where she was most vulnerable. Her stomach. “It’s too bad. I’d planned on asking her to taste test a new flavor for me, but I clearly can’t trust her not to sabotage me.”
I saw Abuelita scrunch her face from the corner of my eye.
Abuelita grumbled. "Empanadas are fry." She reached for one of the banana crumb muffins left from the morning’s baking. If my counting was correct, it was her third serving. So much for not liking bananas.
"Not in my kitchen, they're not. If you'd rather take your operation to our home, you're welcome to do so, but my fryer is for Jessica's use on the day of the fundraiser." Sylvia brooked no argument.
Abuelita reached her hand out. "I try. Give me empanada," she said gruffly, setting her muffin aside. Then, because she wasn't completely without manners and maturity, she added, "Please."
Only then did Sylvia hand her the empanada.
I enjoyed the rest of my lunch while watching Abuelita attempt not to show any enjoyment in Sylvia's baked version. It was comical to see how her mouth twitched to avoid making a smile; how she forced her eyes to stay open when anyone normal would have closed them to better focus on the flavors teasing her tongue; how she disguised her moan of pleasure with a cough and pounding on her chest, claiming to have swallowed wrong.
"Admit it. They're delicious. You’ll win your prize hands-down. You don’t even need to worry about me," I said to her when she took another bite.
She sniffed, unwilling to admit she was being unreasonable. "They too big. We lose money."
Sylvia turned back to the oven, pulling out another batch. "These are for our diners. We’ll make smaller empanadas for the fundraiser."
Setting the hot cookie sheet on the counter and joining Abuelita, Sylvia said, "I'm sure Jess will overlook your sabotaging attempts and reconsider her decision to allow you to taste test if you let us use the industrial mixer I know you have stashed in your spare room."
My ears zoned in at the mention of the industrial mixer. Adi's little KitchenAid could only mix two batches at a time. A larger mixer would be a godsend.
But Abuelita wasn't having it. "Is my room. You no enter. Is no for you."
Sylvia raised her hands. "Have it your way, but you're being unfair. I could ask Jake to help us bring the mixer here and I promise we would try not to look at whatever you have hidden in that room."
Hidden? I looked at Adi for an explanation.
"It's a long story. I'll tell you what I know later," she whispered.
Somehow it didn't surprise me to learn that Abuelita had a room she kept secrets in. But it did surprise me that not even Sylvia was allowed to see them.
"You no enter room," insisted Abuelita, pointing her finger at Sylvia.
"Have I ever tried before? What makes you think I would now? Really, Ma, so long as you're not hiding anything illegal in there, I couldn't care less."
Abuelita gave no reassurances and Sylvia made no promises. Interesting. They stood in front of each other, mirroring each other’s crossed arms and narrowed gaze like they were measuring an opponent.
"I'm going to call Fernanda," I said, dismissing myself from the stare-off between mother and daughter.
Adi said, "And I'd better help take orders. It's lunch time and someone around here needs to get some work done."
Her comment set the kitchen into motion again, and I dialed Fernanda’s home phone as I watched Tia Rosa quietly wash and dry her never-ending pile of dishes. She was being awfully quiet.
Fernanda answered and was more than happy to help, even offering to ask her mom if she could join us if she had the day off. I was grateful for any help offered, so I gladly accepted her suggestion and asked if she could swing by Sylvia's kitchen tomorrow to prepare a practice batch. I would show them what all was involved with not only the dough, but the frying and glazing … and in the process maintain peace with Abuelita by feeding her doughnuts.
Tia Rosa tugged on my shirt sleeve just as I put the receiver on its charger. Looking up at me with her large eyes, she asked, "What you like better: chocolate or mint?"
"Chocolate," I answered without having to think. On further consideration, I added, "Although, a mint after chocolate is good too." And then I thought about Girl Scout cookies and their addictive Thin Mints. “Chocolate and mint are an excellent combination.”
She pinched her chin and nodded somberly. "Is okay. I think it work good." Before I could ask what would work, she returned to her sink to dry her recently washed dishes with a pensive expression. I was curious to know what she was planning, but I had a little puppy waiting for her walk. Lady sat patiently in front of the screen door at the back of the kitchen with her ears up and her nose poking the mesh.
Clearing a space in the corner for the grocer’s delivery, I ducked out of the kitchen and grabbed Lady's leash. We would go for a nice stroll down a shaded street. There were a lot of trees on the street where Sylvia lived.
My curiosity was piqued about Abuelita's room. I wasn't sure where Victor's house was, but I knew it was near Abuelita and Sylvia's house. While I wouldn't snoop around, it couldn't hurt just to walk by his house to see what I could see. If Agent Vasquez happened to be around, I was clearly only walking Lady on a street offering protection from the hot sun. He couldn’t find any fault with that.
Crossing the park, I saw the little candy girl. She waved at me. I'd learned that her name was Doménica. She was eleven years old, though she looked closer to six, but she had the street smarts of a grown adult. I knew she had younger siblings, but she protected them with all the ferocity of a mama bear. I'd tried to find out where they lived, but my Spanish wasn't good enough to understand anything more than her reluctance to speak of her circumstances. She did, however, take advantage of my interest to sell me more candy than I could eat in a year. I was fine with it. She let me practice my dismal Spanish on her and she was patient enough to try to understand me. I wished I could do more for her, so I bought her candy.
I asked what flavor she had and bought two boxes when she told me it was lemon. I tried to ask if she’d eaten lunch and, to my surprise, she pulled half of one of Sylvia’s empanadas out of the pocket of her apron. She’d carefully wrapped it in the napkin, no doubt, to take home and share with her siblings.
As I always did, I tried to slip her an extra dollar, which she always refused. I guess even street urchins have their pride, but it wouldn't prevent me from offering again next time.
Just to make sure I was heading in the right direction, I asked, "Tia Rosa y Abuelita? Casa?" and I pointed where I thought their homes were. Since Sylvia and Abuelita practically lived at the restaurant, I hadn’t been to their home.
Doménica smiled and corrected my planned trajectory. Good thing I'd asked.
Lady and I crossed the park, enjoying the balmy breeze rustling the trees and carrying the aroma of the bakeries, restaurants, and taffy makers vying for attention surrounding us through the air. When my thoughts strayed to ice cream (it was another perfect day for a frozen treat), my thoughts turned to Victor. I hadn't known him well, and I didn't know many of his friends, but it was unfair his life had been snuffed out so early. What kind of a monster stuffed a guy in a tiny freezer on such a beautiful, sunny day? A day much like today.
I paused on the sidewalk opposite Abuelita's house. A nice, little plaque over the front door labeled the property as hers. Just like you would expect from a prickly old woman, a thick, thorny hedge surrounded the property. It was perfectly manicured and softened by little blooms of flowers clustered over the otherwise inhospitable plant. I couldn't see much else of the house from the outside over the hedge, but I could imagine how orderly the inside of her home would be.
Next to it was Tia Rosa's home. The garden straddled the line between a carefully-groomed plot of wild fauna and a chaotic jungle ready to overtake the dwelling. Vines stretched up the side of the concrete and curled around window boxes with colorful, fragrant blooms on every available surface. I imagined bright furniture with plump cushions, a kitchen the color of sunshine, and a full jar of store bought cookies. Everything comforting and welcoming along with walls full of photographs of smiling faces and Tia Rosa's many works of art … whatever they might be. Though Tia Rosa faithfully attended Miss Patty's art class three times a week, I had yet to see any of her paintings.
The contrast of the two sisters and their equally different homes brought a smile to my face. They definitely had their faults, but they were my friends. Competition and all, I knew that when it came down to it, they had my back … just as I had theirs. I'd make sure Tia Rosa had a plan for her booth and I'd point everyone to Abuelita's table for her and Sylvia's baked empanadas. With the calories they'd save on the baked empanadas, they could eat one of my doughnuts.
Lady pulled on the leash, her ears perked up and her nose pointing down the street. A police car and two motorcycles were parked a block down in front of what must be Victor's house. A man paced away from us, hunched over on one side as if he was on his cell phone. His other hand gestured wildly when it wasn't tugging on his hair. It was Roberto.
He turned around and punched his finger at his phone's screen, waving when he saw Lady and me. "Hey, Jessica. How're you doing?" he asked, crossing the street to join us. He tried to act casual, but he wasn’t fooling anybody. He was stressed out.
Lady shoved her nose under his hand until he scratched behind her ears.
"I'm doing fine. How about you? Have they found anything out?" I asked, praying an arrest had already been made.
Roberto sighed heavily. "I only wish. Then this nightmare would be over. I just got off the phone with my lawyer." He tugged his fingers through his hair again.<
br />
"That good, huh?" I asked.
"The investigator has it in his head that Vanessa is somehow involved."
"Vanessa?" I asked, in shock. When I'd talked to her earlier, she'd never mentioned that she might be a suspect. She'd been worried for Roberto. "Why would they suspect her?"
He shook his head. "You don't know about it, but the rest of Baños does. She'd never do something so stupid when she knows everyone would point the finger at her."
That didn't enlighten me at all, but I wouldn't push for answers merely to satisfy my curiosity unless he was willing to share them.
There was one thing I could tell him that would bring him some cheer. "She asked me to help her snoop around because she's worried about you. She thought you might be under suspicion."
He tried to smile. "That's sweet of her, but I left for my office a couple hours before the murder. I was in Ambato. My secretary already confirmed my alibi."
"That's great! Vanessa was really concerned for you."
"She's one of a kind, but I'm more concerned she'll end up in jail for something I know her incapable of doing. You see, she dated Victor for years before we got together."
Vanessa and Victor? I knew my eyebrows were raised, but they were such an unlikely pair.
"I know what you're thinking. They're not exactly a match you'd put together. They were in the same graduating class in high school. She saw his potential and she supported him through five majors changes before seeing that she was more a mother-figure to him than a girlfriend. She gave to Victor until she had nothing more to offer. And then, he disappointed her again."
I felt bad for my catty first impression of her. Maybe she'd earned that ring after all. "That must've been awful for her."
"It was. She broke up with him four months before Mom and Dad died and we got together shortly after. We've been friends our entire lives and, if I'm completely honest, I've always had a crush on her. When she finally noticed me, I became the happiest man alive. I hate it that this whole mess throws a wrench in our wedding plans, but she's such a trooper. I offered to push the date back until things calmed down, but she insisted on supporting me through this whole ordeal."